Stolen
by Jini
Summary: She was a regular thief. She just kept stealing bits and pieces of his heart everyday until he had nothing left. His heart was hers. IchiRuki.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Summary: she was a regular thief. She just kept stealing bits and pieces of his heart everyday until he had nothing left. His heart was hers.

Author's note: Just a short little one-shot I'd done for an LJ meme last year. Thought I'd improve it and then post it up. It's been a while since I've written any IchiRuki, so I hope that it's still okay and you like it!

Also, this fic was heavily inspired by **Stolen **by **Dashboard Confessional**. So I suggest you guys listen to this song while reading this. It helps sets the mood :D

Warning: an extensive over-dosage of fluff here.

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**Stolen **

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He was watching her from afar, a hint of amusement riding his brown eyes.

She was dancing. Or rather, she was twirling in a circle with her eyes closed and her lips upturned into a smile.

To any other bystander, she was just some crazy nut who couldn't dance to save her own life. Well… they weren't half wrong on that assumption: Rukia really couldn't dance, not even to save her life.

But damn, that didn't make her any less beautiful – dancing and smiling the way she was at that moment. Not that Ichigo was ever going to tell her that. Not a damn chance. But he wasn't making any effort looking away either.

As she spun on her heals (which she couldn't really walk in by the way) and hummed an off-beat tune of a song he thought he might have heard before but couldn't really remember where, he could not resist the not-so-startling fact that he loved this girl. Why deny it when it was true?

He loved her like he couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. He knew it and he knew she knew it too. It was the same way she loved him.

And the way she glowed in the evening lights, as though she was made to dance in them, only made Ichigo fall harder.

It was still rather strange, even for him, being able to do something as simple as hold her hand or kiss her mouth even during times when the only reason he had was because he wanted to. Neither one of them would call their relationship "conventional" but somehow, it didn't seem to matter. They were content. _He_ was content. He could watch her dance horribly and sing off-tune for hours and not ever tire from it – well, on rare occasions anyway.

Like these; when he could carelessly allow himself to admit that she was a regular thief, one who just kept stealing bits and pieces of his heart everyday until he had nothing left because his heart was _hers_.

"If you're done staring at me," she said suddenly, piercing him with blue eyes that never failed to tug at his heart strings, "you'd get your lazy ass over here and join me already."

She gave him her trade-mark, you-can-kiss-my-ass type smirk that only she can seem to pull off, before reaching out to him.

He snorted. "You do realize you look like an idiot, right?" But he pushed himself from the wall he was leaning against and made his way towards her.

Rukia laughed - and boy, did he love her laugh. It was throaty and chimed like bells, so very pleasant to the ears.

"Since when had that ever stop you before?" she asked, and there was challenge and familiarity and light and everything else that was Rukia that he loved in that voice.

Yeah, it really was no wonder he loved this girl.

Ichigo searched her eyes, so very blue and radiant; her thin lips, still upturned in a teasing smile; her dark dress that hugged her just right, and then finally at her hand, which she still had reaching out to him. It didn't waver nor did her eyes, as if to say she knew where she wanted to be and it was right here. With him. Always with him.

She was drawing him towards her and he couldn't deny it. He could never deny her.

So he took her hand – which always seemed to fit just perfectly in his own – and drew her close him, enjoying the smell of her hair in his nose and the soft feel of her skin against the rough pads of his fingers.

He felt her smile against his shoulder as he started to move them in a circle, barely able to resist rolling his eyes in the process.

"Still look like an idiot," he murmured, and she laughed, knowing full well that he was smiling.

It didn't matter that she'd stolen his heart without his consent (quite frankly he didn't mind so much anymore) because he knew that somewhere along the way, he had stolen hers too.

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A/N: Well, you know the drill! Feedback is always appreciated!


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